Practicing Reality
by shimmeryshine
Summary: He sputters as she raises her eyebrow saucily, eyeing his desk. He's eyeing it too though, and she can almost see the fantasies flicking across his retinas.


_a/n: This is completely gratuitous but I'm only a little bit sorry. I think that is the only context you will need._

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><p>They stumble into his office in a tangle of limbs, her hands on his face, one of his on the small of her back, pressing her into him, and one waving erratically behind them, feeling blindly for hard objects. Castle jerks them to his left when he feels the sharp edge of his desk against his wrist, almost making her trip over her four-inch heels just to stay upright. She grunts as she fists his shirt for balance, the first syllable of his name getting lost in his mouth as she tries and fails to stop kissing him for long enough to yell at him.<p>

"Ch –" he tries to say before her tongue slides intoxicatingly against his. His head feels thick with her, taken over, he's _possessed_. "Chair," he finally blurts when she pulls back for a quick tug of oxygen.

In her haze of lust, it takes her a moment to understand why he's asking her about chairs, and her eyes take the opportunity to scan their surroundings. "Not the desk?"

He sputters as she raises her eyebrow saucily, eyeing his desk. His very cluttered, very messy desk. He's eyeing it too though, and she can almost see the fantasies flicking across his retinas.

"I…"

"Do you think about that, when you're writing?" she asks suddenly, trailing her fingers absently down the buttons of his shirt. Her detective instincts are tingling as she watches a blush creep across his cheeks. Oh, she _totally_ has him. "How exactly _do_ you come up with those steamy sex scenes, Mr. Castle?" Her voice has gone so breathy that she almost doesn't recognize it herself.

As she plays with his buttons, his eyes narrow at her suddenly, cocky self confidence coming back to him after his momentary episode of speechlessness. "A writer never spills his secrets, detective," he breathes, eyes flicking down to her lips and then leveling her with a challenging stare. "Why don't you tell me what you think about when you're _reading_ them?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would actually." He's looking at her in that sincere way he does when he wants to unwrap her layers, get at the _real_ Kate Beckett underneath all of her sass and rock hard Cop wall, but this is a conversation for another day, so she deflects, as always.

"Like hearing me talk dirty, Castle?" Her eyebrow is on the rise again, and she watches his throat bob as he swallows thickly.

"_Always_," he grins at her.

She looks put out as she rolls her eyes and then pulls him closer by the front of his shirt. "You were saying something about a chair?"

At her reminder, he walks her backward until they're both sliding into his comfortable writing chair, her perching herself atop his lap, knees pressing into the sides of his thighs. He slides his hand into her pants immediately, popping open the button and nudging aside her underwear with a practiced flick of his thumb, tired of waiting to put his hands on her.

Groaning appreciatively at his initiative, she leans forward to press her burning forehead against his temple. Heat erupts in her lower belly as she grins deviously against his cheek. "You're going to smell like me," she whispers hotly into his ear making him swear as he circles her clit roughly. She jumps at his reaction.

"_Fuck_, Beckett." He's supposed to be hosting a poker game in his living room in 10 minutes and she knows it, but he will never leave her presence again if she keeps whispering in his ear like that.

"No matter how many times you wash your hands, you're going to know," she pauses, licking her lips and taking an audible breath against his earlobe as she rises up enough for him to slide two fingers inside of her. "You're going to know that you were just inside of me, _touching_ me." Her hand snakes its way down the front of his chest as she husks into his ear, finally palming the sizeable bulge beneath his zipper.

"You are such a tease," he croaks, subtly arching his hips into her hand. The second he moves she slides her fingers away, gripping his hip as she begins moving her body up and down over his hand.

"You're just so _easy_." She's smirking at him now, daring him to stop as she moans obscenely around his fingers.

"I'm not the one riding my hand like..." Castle trails off, throwing her own tactic back in her face.

She lifts one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, daring him to finish the thought. "Like...?"

"Like _Nikki Heat_," he finally finishes, looking a little bit busted and incredibly turned on at the same time.

At the sound of her alter-ego's name, Beckett grins knowingly, making an exaggerated moaning sound as she rises up and sinks down on his fingers. "Oh, _Rook_," she groans, tossing her head back and arching her spine. She's smiling evilly, hyper aware of the effect she is having on him.

"Jesus woman," Castle swears, leaning forward to lick his way up her exposed neck. Her pulse is thumping against his mouth, throbbing out the beat of her desire one pump at a time. "You're going to kill me."

"I always knew you'd be into Nikki Heat role play." He can practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"I'm into you, getting yourself off against my hand," he breathes, watching her intensely as she continues to ride him out, her movements getting more and more erratic. He can tell she's close, feel the tell tale fluttering around his fingers.

Distantly they both hear the doorbell ring, and Beckett's eyes pop open, wide with a flash of panic and then narrowing into the most terrifying look he's ever seen. The hold she has on his shoulders tightens, her knees gripping his sides with authority as he slows down for a moment. "Don't you _dare_stop."

Throwing one look to his open office door and then back to the half ravished woman atop him, Castle yanks her head forward, shoving his tongue into her mouth as he presses his thumb to her clit. She grins into his mouth. "Hurry," he whispers harshly, his chair squeaking with every now frantic movement of her hips.

The added danger of being discovered is almost enough to set Beckett off on it's own, and she bites back a scream as she thrusts once, twice, three times and tumbles over the edge around his fingers. The doorbell chimes again as she rocks out the last waves of her orgasm, feeling warm and flushed. Impulsively she leans forward and kisses him chastely, a sincere gesture after her show of dominance. They both stand on wobbly legs as Castle untucks his shirt so that it covers his crotch.

Beckett's eyes flick to the bump there, looking hungry and apologetic all in one go. "Call me when they leave?" she asks, running a hand through her mussed hair and re-buttoning her pants. He nods once, taking a deep breath before moving to step past her.

She catches his arm with her hand. "If you win, maybe Nikki Heat can help you celebrate." Her eyes are sparkling so mischievously he almost decides to pretend not to hear the door.

"See? _Tease_," Castle whispers, pointing a finger at her chest and leaning into her space without touching her.

"Whatever, you asked for it." They're both grinning as he backs his way out the office door, only breaking eye contact when he has to round the corner.

She has a minute to kill before she can try and sneak out to the door, so she grabs the yellow block of sticky notes off the corner of Castle's desk on a whim, scribbling down a single sentence that she then sticks to the top of his closed laptop lid. Her finger traces the words once before she backs away, heading for her escape with a smile still on her lips.

_(I think of us.)_


End file.
